


A Toast

by SarmaArmour



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Freedom, Post Season 3, Well that was the idea anyway, canonverse, kind of a call back to the Oppenheimer quote in I Am Become Death, leaning against the tree like they did in Day Trip, revelations of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarmaArmour/pseuds/SarmaArmour
Summary: In between preparing their people for the Apocalypse Part 2, Bellamy and Clarke share their refreshment breaks beneath the calming shade of an old cedar tree. Sometimes they sit in comfortable silence, sometimes they talk about their future and sometimes they let slip their unconscious thoughts!Written for the Bellarke Fanfiction October Flash Fic Competition. Prompt: freedom.





	

Bellamy loved the simple ritual of sitting in the quiet cool of a shady cedar with Clarke, sipping their drinks and sharing their break time.

One morning as they leant against the trunk, Clarke’s left hand resting casually on his knee, something shifted between them.

“Do you ever think about your future?” she asked.

“No,” Bellamy stated, revelling in her ability to delve straight into the deep stuff.

“Never?”

“I’ve been living day by day since Octavia was born. I haven’t had the luxury of wondering what kind of life I’d have.”

“And now?”

He looked up from his cup at the edge in her voice and noticed an intensity in her eyes usually reserved for more urgent moments.

“Now’s no different,” he said truthfully.

“But you have hope, right?” Clarke continued, unperturbed.

“Hope that we’ll survive this?”

“Hope that one day we’ll be free to do _more_ than just survive.”

Bellamy sighed and leant his head against the rough cedar bark.

“We may never be rid of the things we’ve done, Clarke.”

“Maybe...” she paused. “But we have each other, and our children will be free.”

“Our _children_?” Bellamy swallowed, looking at her sideways as a blush crept up Clarke’s cheeks.

“I-I meant…” she stuttered, “our _people’s_ children.”

“Of course,” Bellamy smiled shyly and raised his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

“To our future generations,” Clarke tapped her drink against his, “may they be free from Freudian slips of the tongue.”

Bellamy coughed, choking on the small amount of liquid he was allowed.

“Freudian slip,” Clarke clarified, “it’s an unintentional…”

“I _know_ what a Freudian slip is.” Bellamy recovered.

They spent the rest of their break in easy silence, staring at the blue sky above them, but all Bellamy could see were two curly haired monkeys climbing that tree.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank-you to Bellarke Fanfiction for running this competition and for everything they do for the fandom. I'm so grateful to everyone who read and voted! Thank-you. I started entering these flash fic comps as a way to push myself to try new things with my writing and keep motivated. They're so much fun and I love reading what everyone else writes, if you haven't already I definitely suggest entering - they are run every month. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr here: sarmaarmour.tumblr.com/


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